The afternoon sun slants through the living room windows, catching dust motes in golden beams that make everything feel dreamlike and unreal.
I shift on the couch, trying to find a position that doesn't remind of this morning. Every movent sends echoes through my body, phantom sensations I'd rather forget. Emily sits beside , close enough that our thighs touch, her hand resting possessively on my knee.
She's been quiet for the past few minutes, just existing in the comfortable silence we've built together. But I can feel her gaze on , assessing, reading my discomfort like it's written in neon across my forehead.
"You're still thinking about it," she says finally, her voice gentle but knowing.
Heat floods my face imdiately. "I'm not..."
"Baby." Her hand squeezes my knee, cutting off the lie before it can fully form. "It's okay that you didn't like it."
The words hit harder than they should. My throat tightens, sha and relief tangling together until I can't tell which is which. This morning plays on loop behind my eyes, the weirdness of it, the wrongness, Emily's face when I'd actually done it. When I'd crossed that line she'd dangled in front of until my curiosity got the better of my judgnt.
"I really didn't," I admit, the confession coming out rough and strangled. My hands clench into fists on my lap. "It was fucking weird, Emily. I don't... I don't want to do that again."
"I know." Her voice carries nothing but understanding, no judgnt or disappointnt. Just acceptance. "You told that already. In the shower, rember?"
I nod, rembering how she'd held under the hot water, washing away the physical evidence while murmuring reassurances into my ear. Telling it was okay, that we never had to do it again, that she loved regardless of whether I shared her curiosity about crossing that particular boundary.
"But you seed to like it," I say, unable to keep the confusion from my voice. "When I was actually..."
"Yeah." Emily's smile turns wicked, that dangerous gleam sparking in her blue eyes. "It was hot, Danny. Feeling you let go like that, literally inside ? Marking in a way nobody else ever has?" Her hand slides higher up my thigh, her touch deliberate. "That was incredibly intimate." ᴛhis chapter is ᴜpdated by novel(ꜰ)ire
My cock gives an interested twitch despite my brain's protest, my body apparently having very different opinions about this morning than my mind does.
"Well, if you liked it that much... I guess we could…"
The doorbell rings.
Relief crashes through so fast I almost laugh. Saved by the fucking bell. My body relaxes imdiately, tension draining from my shoulders as I seize the interruption like a lifeline.
Emily's hand stills on my thigh. Her head tilts toward the door, confusion flickering across her features. "Who could that be?"
"Probably Amazon," I say quickly, grateful for any excuse to end this conversation. "You ordered shoes, rember?"
She stands, smoothing down her blouse as she moves toward the entryway. I stay frozen on the couch, watching her disappear around the corner. The sound of the lock clicking open echoes through the quiet house.
Then I hear Emily sigh, long and heavy. The kind of sigh that carries resignation and annoyance in equal asure.
"Hello, Jessica."
My blood turns to ice.
"Where is Daniel?" My aunt's voice cuts through the house like a blade, sharp and demanding. I can hear the anger threading through every syllable, the barely controlled fury that I recognize from childhood. From every ti she had to clean up after my mom's sses.
"My husband is inside," Emily says, and I can hear her shifting into that calm, controlled tone she uses when she's trying to de-escalate. "But I don't think I really want you talking to him right now. You seem worked up."
The words barely finish leaving Emily's mouth before Jessica's voice explodes through the house.
"DANIEL!"
My stomach drops straight through the floor. She's not just worked up. She's furious. The kind of furious that ans sothing's happened, sothing bad enough to drive her across town to confront .
I'm on my feet before I consciously decide to move, my body reacting to the rage in my aunt's voice like it's been conditioned to since childhood.
Emily's hand shoots out imdiately, palm raised toward in a stopping gesture. Her expression is calm, controlled, but I can see the steel underneath it. The professional mask sliding into place.
"Danny, stay there," she says quietly, but there's authority in her voice that makes freeze mid-step.
Jessica's head appears around the doorfra, her sharp features twisted with barely contained fury. She's holding a manila folder in one hand, waving it like it's evidence in a murder trial. Her eyes find mine imdiately, locking on with an intensity that makes my stomach clench.
"There are so things you need to know about your wife," Jessica says, her voice trembling with rage. "Right now, Daniel. Things you should have known before you married her."
Emily's posture shifts, her shoulders squaring as she blocks more of the doorway with her body. When she speaks, her voice cos out calm and cold, each word precisely asured.
"I'd really appreciate it if you left us alone, Jessica."
"I know you're a prostitute!" Jessica's voice explodes through the entryway, loud enough that I'm certain the neighbors can hear. "Amber Infinity! I know everything, Emily. Everything you've been hiding from my nephew."
The na hangs in the air like a grenade with the pin pulled.
My aunt's eyes lock on mine, waiting for shock or horror or betrayal to cross my face. Waiting for to realize I've been deceived, that the woman I married has been lying to this entire ti.
"Aunty," I say, and my voice cos out steadier than I feel. "I already know."
Jessica's expression transforms, shock replacing the righteous fury in a way that would be almost comical if my heart wasn't hamring against my ribs.
"You..." She blinks, her grip on the folder loosening slightly. "You know?"
"Yeah." I take a step toward the door, ignoring Emily's warning gesture. "I've known for a long ti."
Jessica's face goes through several emotions in rapid succession, confusion, disbelief, then sothing that looks almost like betrayal. Like I've personally wounded her by not being the victim she expected to save.
"And you married her anyway?" Her voice drops to sothing quieter but no less furious. "Daniel, do you understand what she does? What kind of woman she is?"
The certainty in my voice seems to knock the wind out of Jessica's sails completely. She stands there in the doorway, her mouth opening and closing like she's trying to form words that won't co. Her eyes dart between and Emily, searching for sothing, anything that makes sense in her worldview.
Then, in a mont that would be almost funny if it wasn't so tragic, my aunt turns to Emily. Actually turns to her for help, like the woman she just called a prostitute might sohow explain how her nephew could be okay with this.
"How..." Jessica's voice cos out strangled, confused. "How can he just accept this?"
Emily's expression doesn't change, her professional mask firmly in place.
"Because he loves ," Emily says simply, her voice carrying that sa calm authority. "And I love him. What I do for work doesn't change that."
Jessica's face contorts, anger flooding back into her features. "Work?" The word cos out like venom. "You call selling your body work?"
"I do, actually." Emily's tone remains steady, unshakeable. "It's how I support myself. How I supported my daughter for years. Daniel knows this. He's always known this."
Jessica's eyes narrow, her knuckles whitening around the manila folder. I can see her struggling, trying to find any foothold in this conversation that makes sense to her worldview.
"Jesus Christ," she finally says, running a hand through her perfectly styled hair, ssing it up in a way I've rarely seen. "I need a drink."
To my complete surprise, Emily laughs, not mockingly, but with genuine relief, like the tension has suddenly popped like a balloon.
"You know what? Maybe you should co in," Emily says, stepping back from the doorway with a graceful gesture. "We could all use one right now."
I blink, trying to process this shift. Emily catches my eye and gives the tiniest nod of reassurance as she motions toward the kitchen table.
Jessica hesitates, clearly thrown off-balance by the invitation. For a second, I think she might refuse, might double down on her righteous anger. But then her shoulders slump slightly, and she steps across the threshold, still clutching that damn folder.
Emily moves to the liquor cabinet, pulling out the good rum, the one we usually save for special occasions. She sets out three glasses and pours generous portions into each.
"You didn't drug hers, right?" I whisper as Emily passes on her way to the table, the words slipping out before I can stop them.
"No," she murmurs back with a small smile that sohow manages to be both reassuring and slightly amused at the question.
Jessica doesn't wait for any toast or pleasantries. She grabs her glass and takes a long, deep gulp, closing her eyes as the alcohol burns down her throat. When she sets the glass back down, so of the fire has gone out of her expression, replaced by sothing more complicated, a mixture of confusion, hurt, and exhaustion.
"What the fuck happened to my family?" she asks, her voice quieter now but no less intense. The question isn't accusatory. It sounds almost genuine, like she truly can't comprehend how we got here.
I take a sip of my own rum, letting the warmth spread through my chest before answering.
I open my mouth to answer, but before I can get a word out, Jessica's head snaps up. She points directly at , her finger steady as a knife, then turns to Emily with narrowed eyes.
"He can't drink that," she says sharply. "He's only nineteen years old."
The temperature in the room drops ten degrees in an instant. Emily's expression hardens, her professional mask slipping to reveal sothing much more dangerous underneath. She sets her glass down with deliberate care, the soft clink against the table sohow more threatening than if she'd slamd it.
"He's in my house," Emily says, her voice quiet but edged with steel. "He's my husband. He's not driving anywhere, and he's perfectly safe." She leans forward slightly, her blue eyes locked on Jessica's. "He can do whatever the hell he wants here. This is his ho."
The emphasis she puts on the word "ho" makes sothing warm unfurl in my chest despite the tension crackling between them. I take another deliberate sip of rum, the burn in my throat nothing compared to the heat of pride spreading through .
Jessica's lips press into a thin white line. "The law doesn't care whose house it is."
"And I don't care what the law says about a man who's old enough to get married, old enough to work, and old enough to make his own decisions," Emily fires back. Her hand finds mine under the table, her fingers interlacing with mine in a grip that's almost painfully tight. "You don't get to co into our ho and start dictating rules."
Jessica slams the folder down on the table with enough force that our glasses rattle. The manila folder splits open, papers spilling out across the polished surface.
"Does he know you killed your husband?"
The words explode into the room like a bomb.
Emily's entire body coils like a spring. Her hand releases mine as she half-rises from her chair.
"Emily didn't kill her ex-husband," I say quickly, my voice cutting through the tension before Emily can launch herself across the table. My hand finds her arm, gripping tight enough to anchor her in place. "That's not what happened."
Jessica takes another long pull of rum, her eyes never leaving Emily's face. When she sets the glass down, there's a bitter smile playing at her lips.
"Yup," she says, dragging out the word with deliberate mockery. "He's just missing without a trace. Disappeared one day and never ca back. How convenient."
My stomach clenches, but I keep my expression neutral. "You don't have any actual proof?" I ask, trying to sound casual despite the hamring of my heart. "Just speculation."
Jessica's attention shifts to , her eyes narrowing as she studies my face. "You really don't care, do you?" Her voice carries genuine disbelief. "Your wife is a prostitute who might have murdered her husband, and you're sitting there defending her."
"Escort," I correct automatically.
"Oh, I'm sorry," Jessica spits, venom dripping from every word. "Your wife is an ‘escort’ who might have murdered her husband. Does that terminology make you feel better, Daniel?"
Emily's hand finds mine again under the table, squeezing hard enough to hurt. I can feel her trembling beside , fury or fear or both radiating from her in waves.
"Jesus Christ, you are fucking helpless," Jessica says suddenly, slamming her glass down. Her eyes burn into with disappointnt so familiar it makes my stomach clench. "You're worse than your mother ever was."
I feel Emily tense beside , her fingers digging harder into mine under the table.
"Alright," Emily says, her voice deceptively calm but with an undercurrent of fury that makes the hair on my arms stand up. "I only invited you in because I thought you'd be civil. That ends now." She rises from her chair in one fluid motion, her posture straight and unyielding. "Let's go. Get the fuck out of my house."
Jessica doesn't move, just stares at Emily with naked contempt. Then, with deliberate slowness, she picks up her glass and drains the remaining rum in one long swallow. The sound of the empty glass hitting the table echoes through the sudden silence.
"You don't have to tell twice," she says, gathering her papers back into the folder with jerky movents.
"Danny," Emily's voice cuts through my spiral, her hand on my shoulder. "You okay?"
Jessica is already at the door, folder tucked under her arm. She pauses, looking back at with an expression I can't quite read, sothing between pity and disgust.
"If you stay with her, she'll kill you, Daniel," Jessica says, her voice cracking with sothing that sounds almost like genuine fear beneath all the judgnt. "She's dangerous."
"Just fucking get out," I snap.
Jessica flinches like I've slapped her. Her mouth opens, then closes, shock written across her features. For a second, I think she might actually try to argue, might double down on her accusations, but then her shoulders slump in defeat.
Emily slams the door as Jessica walks out. Silence floods the house, thick and suffocating. I stand frozen, my heart hamring against my ribs like it's trying to escape. The afterimage of Jessica's face burns behind my eyes, that look of absolute certainty that I'm in danger, that I need saving.
Emily's hand finds mine, her fingers interlacing with mine in a grip that's gentle but grounding. When I finally look at her, her blue eyes are swimming with unshed tears.
"I'm so sorry.”
Emily's hand freezes against mine. Her tearful eyes widen with confusion, head tilting slightly as she studies my face.
"Why are you sorry?" she asks softly, genuine bewildernt replacing so of the pain in her expression. "You didn't do anything wrong, Danny."
I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry despite the rum. "I brought her into our lives. She's my aunt. My responsibility." The words taste bitter on my tongue. "And she just... she just ca in here and attacked you. In our ho."
Emily's arms wrap around before I can say more, pulling against her with enough force that I stumble slightly. Her body is warm and solid against mine, her heartbeat strong against my chest. She slls like expensive perfu and ho, the combination making sothing in my chest ache.
"Listen to ," she murmurs against my ear, her voice fierce despite its softness. "You are not responsible for her actions. Not now, not ever."
I let myself sink into her embrace, my arms circling her waist as my face finds the crook of her neck. My eyes burn with tears I refuse to let fall. Jessica's words echo in my head, accusations and warnings tangling together until I can barely breathe around them.
"But what if she..." I start, then stop, unable to finish the thought.
Emily pulls back just enough to look at my face, her hands coming up to fra my cheeks. "What if she what, baby?" Her thumbs stroke gently across my skin, the touch soothing despite everything.
"What if she tries sothing?" The question cos out small, uncertain. "She thinks you're dangerous."
Emily's eyes et mine, sothing fierce and protective flashing in them. "I'll take care of it, baby. Don't worry about Jessica."
"Don't hurt her," I blurt out, the words tumbling from my lips before I can stop them.
Emily goes completely still, her hands frozen against my face. She stares at like I've suddenly seen through a mask she didn't realize had slipped.
Then her features soften, warmth flooding back into her eyes as she pulls tighter against her chest. "I've never hurt anyone, Danny," she whispers into my hair.
"I know," I reply, my voice muffled against her shoulder. I lie because I don't care. All that matters is the solid warmth of her body against mine, the safety I feel in her arms despite everything that's happening around us.
Emily's fingers thread through my hair, her touch gentle and reassuring. "Don't worry," she murmurs, her lips brushing against my temple. "She won't get hurt."
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